


A Practical Woman

by OnYourMark



Category: White Collar
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Sickfic, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnYourMark/pseuds/OnYourMark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's sick and Peter's out of town, which leaves Elizabeth to face June, who's just figured things out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Practical Woman

Elizabeth Burke was, in many ways, more practical than her husband.

When they'd started this...thing with Neal, whatever it was -- _threesome_ seemed vulgar and _menage a trois_ too dramatic -- Peter had been concerned about the emotional fallout. It was obvious they couldn't just ignore what was happening; Neal was visibly miserable and Peter was on edge and guilty all the time, which made Elizabeth irritable and frustrated. In the end, the choice was unhappiness or sex, and when push came to shove all three of them would choose sex. But even that first night, while Elizabeth and Neal basked in afterglow, Peter had worried about jealousy and possessiveness, neglect, hurt feelings.

Elizabeth had told him to wait until morning to freak out. Neal had pulled him close, fingers rubbing his scalp, working through his short hair until Peter's eyes slid closed. It worked in the short term. And, in the light of day, while Peter was trying to cope, she had looked at the situation with a more objective eye than he could. It became obvious very quickly that Neal was free and indiscriminate with his affection as long as he felt secure, and Peter and Elizabeth had thirteen years of solid marriage behind them.

She'd been right. Once Peter calmed down, emotions hadn't been the problem. Logistics, on the other hand...

Neal had done what he could in the past few months, coaching Peter through nerves at the office and coming up with excuses for why his tracker showed him at their place so often. And he'd shown them the side-entrance to June's, the back stairway that went straight up to his loft.

The stairway that Elizabeth was currently climbing, trying not to make too much noise.

She didn't like sneaking around in June's own house, but Neal and Peter were adamant that the fewer people who knew or suspected, the less likelihood that any of them could get into trouble over it. And really, Neal's place was so much less private that they rarely came here, except for dinner or when Peter and Neal wanted to work on a case. But Peter was in DC for the week at a law enforcement conference, and Neal had pointed out that there was no good way at all to explain Neal's presence in their home without Peter around. Not to mention it was difficult for Peter to get Neal out of his radius when he was in another city.

A week apart seemed unpleasant and Peter had said it was stupid for them to suffer just because he was gone. So here she was, coming back from a Friday dinner event that had run late, carrying leftovers and hoping Neal wasn't getting himself into trouble.

She needn't have worried. When she let herself into his loft through the side door, the room was quiet and dark. Neal, who'd been battling a cold for days and finally given in and taken Friday off, was visible only as a few tufts of black hair emerging from the blankets on his bed. She smiled fondly at the lump of bedclothes as she set the food in the fridge and took off her heels.

"Liz'beth?" Neal mumbled, apparently woken by the thump of her shoes on the floor.

"Hey, baby," she answered, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it over the chair. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick," Neal admitted, shoving the blankets aside and pushing himself up on his elbows. "How'd the dinner go?"

"Oh, you know," she said, sitting on the bed and taking out her earrings. Neal sat up and undid the clasp of her necklace, kissing the nape of her neck. "Couple of catering mishaps, but otherwise it went smoothly. You want something to eat?"

"Nah." He rested his chin on her shoulder. "You call Peter?"

"Mmhm. He says to make sure you're not malingering." She pressed her hand to Neal's forehead as he snorted derisively. "Still a little warm."

"Can you stay?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist. He was wearing about twice the amount of clothing he normally would to sleep; she'd never met anyone who was so completely lacking in modesty as Neal, and the long-sleeved thermal shirt and thick flannel pajamas spoke volumes about his health at the moment. As did the dullness in his eyes and the dark circles under them.

"For a while," she agreed, reaching up to brush some hair back off his face. "But I think you should probably sleep some more."

"Sure?" he asked, nuzzling into her neck.

"We've talked about this," she told him, because they had; Neal wanted to be on for them, all the time, and training him to accept that they cared about more than the sex was...a process. "You need to rest, and I won't be angry if we just sleep."

Neal was still for a while, just breathing against her skin, but finally he nodded.

"Good boy," she told him. "Now, let go so I can get this dress off."

Neal leaned back, but his eyes followed her as she undressed and went to his wardrobe, appropriating a t-shirt that came down almost to her knees. When she walked away, she saw him frown; it eased as she returned with a glass of water, and he drank the whole thing obediently under her stern gaze.

"I can't stay all night," she said, as he shifted aside to give her room to slide in. "But a few hours won't hurt."

He pulled her close under the blankets, body going limp and relaxed against her back. She covered his hands with hers, secured around her waist, and fell asleep before she could remember to set her phone alarm.

***

Elizabeth woke to sunlight streaming in through the high round window over Neal's bed, the buzz of her phone, and Neal's sleepy protests over the buzz.

"Oh my god," she said, wriggling out of Neal's grasp and running to her purse, which sat on Neal's dining table. She was digging through it for her phone when she looked up and saw June, sitting at a table on the terrace, reading the paper. And Elizabeth was wearing Neal's shirt and not much else.

 _Damn._

She couldn't deal with that immediately; Peter was calling, and she answered hurriedly. "Hi, hon."

"You sound guilty," Peter said, though he seemed more amused than annoyed. "Just seeing how your night with Neal went."

"He's still pretty miserable," she said, darting away from the windows and June's plain view, back to Neal's bed. Neal was moaning about sunlight. "And my night sort of turned into my morning."

"You're still there?" Peter asked.

"I thought Neal might sleep better with me around," she replied, rubbing Neal's shoulder as he tried to hide from the light. "I forgot to set my alarm to get up."

"Did he?" Peter asked. "Sleep better?"

"I think so," she said, leaning over Neal. "Baby, you want to talk to Peter?"

"I want to die," Neal moaned.

"Tell him he's a drama queen," Peter told her. Elizabeth poked Neal and held the phone to his ear, eavesdropping on Neal's half of the conversation, which mostly consisted of mournful affirmatives and negatives. She smiled, pleased, at _love you too_ , which Neal said with mild irritation but which meant Peter had said it first.

"He sounds like he's not faking," Peter allowed, when she took the phone back. "I'll check in this evening."

"Be good, love you," she told him.

"Love you back," he replied, and hung up. Elizabeth studied Neal (who had burrowed his head under a pillow), tapped the phone against her lips, and set it aside.

June was still on the terrace, she was sure; it would be silly to try and sneak out now. And Elizabeth was, after all, a practical woman.

She found a pair of Neal's jogging pants that didn't look ridiculous on her, wrapped his robe around herself like armor, and ventured forth to the terrace. It was warm out, and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air.

"Good morning, my dear," June said, giving her a disarming smile. "Coffee?"

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, accepting a cup and wrapping her hands around it, sipping. God, that was good coffee.

"Help yourself to breakfast, there's plenty," June continued. "Neal still feeling under the weather?"

It was an out. With Peter in DC, it would be natural that Neal might call on his partner's wife for help if he was feeling sick, and that she might stay over the night if she was there late. June herself had looked after Neal most of Friday, plying him with cold medicine and hot tea at regular intervals.

But it was also an obvious out being offered because June was discreet but no fool, and Elizabeth decided she might as well tell the truth.

"He's pretty unhappy," she said. "I guess he doesn't get sick very often. He's sleeping well, though."

"That's good to hear. And you?"

Elizabeth gave her a smile that she hoped was braver than she felt. "I always sleep well, with Neal. I miss Peter when he's not here, though."

June looked approving. "It's good you could be here with Neal, then."

From anyone else it might have sounded catty, but Elizabeth was almost positive it was sincere, which raised new and interesting questions. June's grin widened.

"I'm not cheating on Peter," Elizabeth blurted.

"I didn't harbor the slightest suspicion you might be," June replied. "Not to be crude, Elizabeth, but your generation didn't invent the open marriage, you know."

Elizabeth blinked at her. She decided she needed more coffee for this kind of conversation, and sipped again.

"It's not...quite like that," she managed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply an imbalance," June said. "I've seen the way your husband handles Neal. Good for both of them, I imagine. And especially for you," she added wickedly.

"Can I have some more coffee?" Elizabeth asked.

June refilled her cup, talking as she poured. "My dear, I came of age in New York in the nineteen-sixties. Believe me, your arrangement with Neal is not anywhere near to the most shocking thing I've encountered. I do understand the need for discretion, what with Peter's position."

"It could get Neal sent back to prison," Elizabeth said. "Peter would lose his job at least. At worst, they might try to charge him with abuse."

"Your secret is perfectly safe with me," June assured her. "Neal and Peter are big boys who can look after themselves, and you're a grown woman. Besides, I understand your position perhaps better than you think."

Elizabeth paused with a little pastry halfway to her mouth. June merely looked patient, until the penny dropped.

"You and Byron and Ford," Elizabeth said, setting the pastry down.

"In various combinations, throughout the years," June replied complacently. "Byron and Ford were the best of friends, you know, and they both fell in love with me..." she smiled fondly. "Byron was the love of my life, but we both cared for Ford. It seemed like foolishness to exclude him. They were touchy around each other, for a time, but these things sort themselves out."

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked.

June shook her head. "What happened was that, for thirty years, if one of them was in prison the other stayed with me, and if both of them were out, we had a very comfortable arrangement. It was a little difficult when the children were young, but we managed. Helpful to have a second pair of hands around the house."

It hadn't been exactly what Elizabeth meant, and June obviously knew that. But June had a way of poking sly fun at a person without them feeling hurt by it.

"What happened," she continued gently, "was that Byron began to see a new life opening up for him. He began to care more about the future, especially when the children were born. Ford preferred the life he had. Things became difficult. When Byron stole the printing plate from him, that was a breaking point. And Ford was unfortunately imprisoned shortly after that, which didn't help."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said quietly.

"It's not a happy ending for all, but it was a happy life," June replied. "And, for me, it still is. I miss Byron, and Ford -- well, I won't say what he's done didn't hurt. But I wouldn't trade that time with them for anything." She sat back a little. "I've been wanting to talk to someone about this for _years_. Even back then there was never anyone who really understood."

Elizabeth's heart clenched, because she had too -- she'd wanted to tell Yvonne about this amazing new thing, and she'd wanted to be able to just talk to friends about going out with Neal and Peter for lunch, watching Neal light up when he saw them both. She was in love and she wanted to talk about it. And she couldn't, because people wouldn't understand. But June understood, because she'd felt the same.

"Sometimes," she said slowly, "when I see them together...they worry I'll feel left out, but -- "

" -- all you can think about is how much you love them," June finished. "It hurts, it's so much."

Elizabeth nodded.

"But it's lovely, being adored by two beautiful men," June continued. "Worth it, don't you think?"

"I think so," Elizabeth said. "I try not to worry about -- well, like what happened with Ford. Neal's so precarious sometimes."

"I think Peter's had a great effect on him," June said. "And you can't look to the future _too_ much. A little living in the moment is a good thing."

"That's what I tell myself."

"Good." June nodded. "If you ever want to talk about it..."

"Or if you do," Elizabeth replied. June laughed.

"Thank you. That's a very good point."

There was movement, beyond the doors to the terrace; Elizabeth glanced over to see Neal, half-awake, wandering towards the bathroom. It didn't look like he'd even noticed they were there.

"They don't want me to know, do they?" June asked.

"Neal thinks it might be dangerous," Elizabeth replied. "Not that you'd tell anyone, just that -- "

"The more who know, the greater the danger. Well, if you don't mind keeping a secret, neither do I," June said. "Neal's quite cute when he thinks he's conning someone."

Elizabeth grinned. "You should see Peter."

"I look forward to that. Now," June added, "I'm going to go inside and enjoy my crossword, and leave you to keep an eye on that one. He's not the most tractable of patients, I have to say."

"I'll keep him in line," Elizabeth said. "Thank you, June."

"The pleasure was mine," June replied, gathering up her newspaper.

The weekend maid had cleared the breakfast things and Elizabeth was already back inside by the time Neal emerged from the bathroom, smelling like soap and trying to put his damp hair in order. It curled over his forehead, making him look younger than he was -- and a little like the old police sketches from Peter's files.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, eyes already sweeping the terrace for June. "I thought you went home, maybe."

"I overslept. Just getting some fresh air," she told him, sliding an arm around his waist. "I have nibbles from last night if you want some breakfast."

"I could eat," he said. "Did Peter call? Or did I dream that?"

"He checked in. You were coherent," she replied. She rubbed his back as he coughed, trying not to spill the orange juice he was pouring into a coffee mug. "Feeling better?"

"Mostly. Do you have any events today?"

"Well, my husband's out of town, so I thought I'd spend the day in bed with my boyfriend, watching movies."

"He sounds like a lucky guy," Neal replied. "And I hear he has an extensive library of classic Hitchcock films."

Elizabeth smiled.

Once they were settled in the bed with a plate of snacks between them, the opening of _To Catch A Thief_ playing on the television, she leaned into Neal, rubbing her cheek against his shirt.

"You miss Peter?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"Always," she answered. "You?"

"Yeah."

"But I've got you here," she continued. "And Peter's stuck in DC without _either_ of us."

"Was he annoyed you spent the night?"

"No. Why would he be?" she asked.

"No reason. I don't know how this works. I've never done it before," Neal said contemplatively. "I don't know how we make it work."

"Well, we just do," she said, thinking about June. Thirty years with her men -- she could get used to the idea. "Don't worry about the future too much."

"I didn't used to worry about it at all," he replied.

"Then you're worrying just enough," she said.

"I'm not leaving when the tracker comes off, you know that, right?" he asked, like he really wasn't sure. "I'm in for the long term. If you want."

"I know, hon," she said. Neal's face brightened and he made a contented noise, sinking deeper in the blankets. On the nightstand, her phone beeped with a text message from Peter.

 _Godawful bored and surrounded by politics. Wish I was there. Possibility of phone sex in the near future?_

She giggled and showed it to Neal.

"Well, I'm interested," he said.

"Of course you are," she answered, texting back. "We'll see how you feel this afternoon."

 _Play your cards right and we might even videoconference it._


End file.
